


Land Of Gods And Monsters

by reywritethestar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Ben has a huge...library lmao, Ben has been through the wars - literally, Ben owns a huge house with Lots of Books, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Great Gatsby, Love Letters, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rey Palpatine, Smoking, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, everyone admires and fears Rey - as she should be, my book kink really shines through lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reywritethestar/pseuds/reywritethestar
Summary: She had the whole of New York’s underbelly in the palm of her hand, goddammit. She knew at least twenty-six ways to kill a man with her bare hands. No ghost from her past could tear down her empire if they were just that - a ghost.Yet here he was, solid and clear and decidedly not dead.New York, 1928. A fever had gripped the city, carried on wave upon wave of liquor, excess and debauchery. Rey, the leader of the Palpatine Mob, has returned to meet with an anonymous benefactor. What happens when she faces a past she's torn between forgetting and never letting go?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 32
Kudos: 138
Collections: Galactic Idiots Collection, Reylo Hidden Gems





	Land Of Gods And Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RumiReneeClarke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumiReneeClarke/gifts).



> Hello gang!
> 
> HERE IT IS: THE GREAT GATSBY/ IRISH MAFIA AU NO-ONE ASKED FOR.
> 
> Just a content warning: there is a lot of smoking and alcohol (because 1920s) and a lot of angst (because Reylo). Other than that, sit back, relax, and enjoy the angst!
> 
> Inspired by @galacticidiots' prompt: He was born to become the boss of NYC’s Irish mafia; she was raised to lead the city’s Italian famiglia. To end the bloodshed, their families reach an agreement. Two rival dynasties, united through marriage. Two ruthless leaders, unwilling to compromise. Two bosses. One bed. 
> 
> I decided to put my own twist on it, where Rey and Ben are actually star-crossed lovers but have a duty towards their respective sides...
> 
> ...there are still two mafia bosses in one bed/ chaise lounge though *winks*  
> bea x

As a rule, one should always be fashionably late to parties - time it perfectly, down to the minute, and the limelight was all yours. 

Rey had had enough of the limelight to last her a lifetime.

Ever since she’d arrived back in New York, Rey had felt out of sorts. Once the Great War had finished ravaging the world, it had left behind a void; an emptiness that no one knew how to fill. When the world was blown to pieces, there seemed to be nothing left to do but to dance in the wreckage. So naturally, Rey was feeling a little more reckless; hence the return to New York against her better judgement.

It had only taken a minute of stepping foot off the ship to confirm that the rumours swirling around in London were true: a fever had gripped the city, carried on wave upon wave of liquor and late nights and excess.

Judging from the raucous laughter and jaunty music that greeted her as the automobile rolled up the cobblestoned drive, this particular mansion seemed to be at the center of the frenzy. Its walls were lit up like Blackpool Illuminations, festooned with garlands of lamps in every colour imaginable. Neon pinks bled into sultry reds as the strings of lights looped down the mansion facade and towards the ground. It was a dazzling display of colour, but Rey wasn’t fooled - no respectable family of established wealth would ever dream of turning their house into such a garish and gaudy spectacle. Rey wrinkled her nose as she climbed the marble steps to the grand front entrance; she could practically smell the stench of new money underneath the electricity that crackled in the balmy evening air. She usually didn’t bother with new money - they tended to be too enthusiastic, too sloppy in their dealings with her - but an anonymous benefactor had made Rey an offer that was too intriguing to refuse.

Drawing her shoulders back and standing a little taller, Rey approached the entrance and gave the doormen a cursory nod as they swung open the enormous oak doors.

If the exterior of the mansion was extravagant, it paled in comparison to the party that raged inside.

Stepping over the threshold, Rey was immediately struck by the wall of sound that greeted her. It was a cacophony of delighted shrieks and drunken laughter, punctuated by the staccato blasts of jazz music that blared from a radio above a roaring fireplace. The foyer was rammed with society’s elite: business tycoons, Senators, princes from far away lands, Olympians, actresses, portly old men in tailcoats with their wives on their arms, eyes glazed over as they tune out their husband’s mind-numbing discussions of Wall Street. 

Rey couldn’t resist her lip curling slightly as she laid eyes on this last group; she knew that particular breed of man all too well. She even spotted a few who had previously contracted her services among the group.

She stalked up to the crowd, the pearls on the open back of her black silk gown clicking together as she swept across the marble. As expected, her reputation preceded her: as soon as people realised who it was making their way towards them, the crowd parted before her. Conversations gradually petered out as she glided past, until only the jazz on the radio cut through the hushed silence. 

Rey eventually reached the fireplace, where a young man immediately jumped out of his seat and nervously waved a hand towards the chair. She barely looked at him as she settled back against the wingback armchair and basked in the warmth, absentmindedly watching her diamond cuffs glitter in the light of the flames. As the chatter and the champagne slowly began to flow again, Rey took the opportunity to survey the party. 

The foyer was enormous: gas lamps with red kerchiefs covering them cast an alluring glow over the vast space; an understated yet exquisitely crafted crystal chandelier threw soft prisms of light over a sweeping staircase that disappeared into the shadows of the upper levels. Rey tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, trying to block out the hubbub and the sea of bodies. It was a grand mansion, without a doubt, but there was an elegance to the furnishings, a shrewd eye for detail and quality that had carefully curated it.

Rey’s interest piqued further as the realisation hit her: the interior was oddly tasteful for someone who had just amassed their fortune and decided to plaster neon lights all over the front of their house.

“Rey.” Rose appeared at her elbow; she looked dazzling in a chiffon gown, dripping in gold and fanning herself with an enormous feather fan. She also looked hopelessly bored, and Rey didn’t blame her: Rose was one of the best diplomats for the Palpatine Mob, and parties were a necessary evil when it came to negotiating with wealthy and influential benefactors. “You ready to get a wiggle on?”

“Hey, doll,” Rey beamed up at her, wiggling her fingers, “what, you’re not enjoying the party?” 

“I’ve had better,” Rose said as she wrinkled her nose at the collection of kitschy figurines that lined the mantlepiece.

Rey clutched her breast in mock horror, doing her best imitation of those dramatic starlets in the movies. “Even while I’ve been gone? You wound me.”

Rose rolled her eyes despite the grin that lit up her features. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, New York hasn’t been the same without you, I’ve missed you like hell, etcetera etcetera. Now can we get going?” 

Rey sighed and stood, smoothing out her gown and tugging on the strings of pearls that cascaded down her back. “I suppose so.”

They linked arms and headed towards the stairs, only attracting a few wary glances as they weaved their way through the throng. Just as they reached the foot of the sweeping staircase, Finn and Poe materialised on either side and followed behind them as they started climbing the stairs. They looked every inch like dapper gentlemen of distinguished status, if you ignored the gunpowder stains on their hands.

“How do you know we can trust this guy, Rey?” Finn hissed, his brow furrowed in concern. He’d been fretting about this particular meeting ever since Rey landed in New York.

“What, you don’t trust my judgement?” Rey glanced back at him, eyebrow arched.

Finn rolled his eyes at her imperious expression. “Come on, Rey, you know your Big Shot tricks don't work on me,” he chuckled, but the worry in his voice still lingered. “This is risky, even for you.”

Rey sighed, “I’m not debating this one, Finn.” She paused as they reached the top floor, digging in her purse for her lipstick. “Call it instinct.”

Finn opened his mouth, probably ready to recount all the times her ‘instinct’’ had landed them in sticky situations through the years, when Poe laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“C’mon, buddy, let’s split,” he nodded at Rey as he began to steer Finn back towards the stairs, “we’ll be in our usual spots if things go south, boss.” His lips quirked up in a small smile. “Besides, Rose’ll be just outside the door anyway.”

“Damn straight,” Rose said as she leaned against the wall, her fan replaced by a long, serrated knife. She twirled it effortlessly over her knuckles. “If this schmuck tries anything, he’ll be six feet under before he can lift a finger.”

After years of witnessing Rose’s handiwork, Rey knew it wasn’t an empty threat - and she loved her all the more for it. 

Once Finn and Poe’s footsteps had faded away, Rose jerked her head towards an open door. “This way.”

Rey followed her down the corridor, through an imposing doorway and into the most sumptuous room she’d ever seen.

The room was huge; directly in front of her were a series of french doors that lead to a balcony, flung wide open to welcome in the midsummer air. Gossamer curtains that exactly matched the burgundy of the carpets billowed in the evening breeze, rippling like sails on the open ocean, beckoning her forward.

Oil lamps flickered in the mild midnight air and Persian carpets muffled her footsteps as she crossed to a divan in the center of the space, the quality of the soft pile rivalled only by the craftsmanship of the intricate embroidery that swirled across the deep red background in bright greens and soft creams. Bookshelves lined the walls, goil foil lettering gleaming in the soft glow of the lamps. Rey breathed in deeply, relishing the light perfume of musty paper and jasmine oil that lingered in the air. 

Moving closer to the books, Rey scanned the titles:  _ The Communist Manifesto _ rested alongside  _ The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State.  _ She ran her fingers over their spines; her suspicions were correct, then. This wasn’t just any well-to-do businessman or politician, searching for some firepower in his climb to the top. This unknown client knew exactly what they were doing.

Which begged the question: why was she here?

Just then, a diminutive servant with watery eyes entered the room with a tray laden with a selection of drinks, eyeing Rey with barely-disguised fear.

“Y-you’re host will join you in a few minutes, Miss Palpatine,” he stammered. The glassware rattled as he set it on the divan. “Please, make yourself comfortable. He has selected the refreshments especially for you, in honour of your visit.” The servant shifted uneasily. “Will you be requiring anything else?”

Rey fixed him with a stare before strolling past him, barely sparing a glance at the tray. Instead, she walked over to the french doors, absentmindedly stroking the chiffon curtains as she gazed out at the glittering lights of Long Island.

“What, you don’t want to spend time with us? Rose is excellent company,” Rey glanced over her shoulder and flashed a grin at him.

Rose nodded sagely in agreement as she leaned against a bookcase and lit a cigarette.

The servant’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course, if- if you wish for me to stay, Miss P-Palpatine, I would be honoured - I mean -”

“Relax, we’re just having some fun,” Rey placated as she appraised him, taking in the quiver of his coattails, the nervous bob of his throat. “What’s your name?”

“Mitaka, Miss Palpatine.”

Rey’s lips curled into a small smile. “Well, Mitaka, you can leave us now. And shut the door on the way out.” 

His eyes darted between the two women like a deer in headlights before he all but ran out of the room, bowing profusely and spluttering empty platitudes as he did so. 

As soon as the door snicked shut, Rose burst out into a fit of giggles.

“Jeez, that never gets old,” she said, sauntering over to the door. “Guess I better shift it as well.”

Yet just as Rose reached the door, she paused with one hand on the doorknob. She looked over at Rey, her eyes clouded with worry. “Rey...be careful, okay?”

Rey shot back a wan smile. “I always am.”

Rose scoffed. They both knew that Rey didn’t get to where she was by being careful. “Sure. See you around, doll.” 

Then she left in a rustle of beads and a trail of smoke and just like that, Rey was alone.

🎇

Ten minutes ticked by. Then twenty. Then thirty.

At the hour mark, Rey grew antsy. She drummed her manicured fingers on the stone balcony, a half-full ash tray by her elbow. There was fashionably late, and then there was outright rudeness. Rey despised rudeness.

She was just lighting another cigarette when she heard footsteps behind her. Rey set her shoulders as she kept her back to the visitor. Two could play at this game; if he was going to keep her hanging then she would keep him waiting for as long as she needed to, damn the money - 

“So, it is you.”

Rey froze.

His voice had deepened since they last saw each other, smooth and rich like fine whiskey. She couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine.

Ben came to stand next to her, his hulking frame eclipsing the neon lights in her peripheral vision as he leaned his forearms on the balcony. He was so close, Rey could smell the musky cologne he was wearing. She remembered how he used to spray it on the letters he sent her, how the scent lingered in her writing bureau even after her grandfather found them and burned every last one. 

It lingered in the air between them now.

Rey did her best to feign nonchalance as she took a long drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke fill up her lungs to lull her suddenly shattered nerves.

“In the flesh.”

A beat of silence passed between them, stretched taut, until -

“You didn’t touch the champagne I sent up.”

Rey scoffed. “As if I was going to touch anything on that tray, Solo. Believe it or not, I have no desire to be sent to an early grave, poisoning or otherwise.”

Ben smirked. “That’s not how I remember you.”

Maybe it was the heady smoke, maybe it was the hint of fondness in his voice. Whatever it was, it made Rey forget herself for a moment and she finally turned to look at his profile.

He seemed remarkably unchanged: the same coiffed, glossy dark hair, albeit a couple of inches longer than she remembered; his strong Irish nose, slightly crooked after years of boxing and other, more nefarious forms of combat. The small scar on his jaw that Rey herself had dealt him with the heel of her revolver when the Solo’s had raided their juice joint. His full lips…

Then he turned to face her, and Rey saw the scar.

The angry rawness of a fresh wound had faded in the months since the War ended. Yet even when healed, the puckered line of skin still had a jagged quality to it - as if it had been stitched up rather hastily. 

“Well, I suppose we’ve both changed,” Rey said evenly, carefully schooling her face into a picture of indifference as she finally dared to look him in the eyes.

There it was; there was that beautiful, bottomless gaze that pulled her under all those years ago. Even as Ben pinned her with those dark eyes, Rey couldn’t ignore the way her stomach somersaulted. 

“I suppose we have,” Ben murmured as his eyes raked down her body, taking in the black silk dress, the Selfridges furs that cost more than a racehorse, the polished heels. “How’s your old man?”

“Dead.” Rey placed her hand on the balcony between them, revealing the black diamond signet ring that rested on her ring finger. The Palpatine legacy.

Ben merely quirked an eyebrow, his face as inscrutable as ever. “Ah. What a shame.”

“You could at least offer your sympathies.”

“Fine - my sincere condolences, Miss Rey,” Ben drawled in a way that was anything but sincere.

“Typical,” Rey sniffed, even as her heart jumped at hearing her name on his lips again. “Which begs the question: why did you invite me?”

“I thought that much would be obvious.”

Rey’s annoyance flared anew. She had the whole of New York’s underbelly in the palm of her hand, goddammit. She knew at least twenty-six ways to kill a man with her bare hands. No ghost from her past could tear down her empire if they were just that - a ghost. 

Yet here he was, solid and clear and decidedly not dead.

“Nothing about this clandestine meeting is obvious, _ Solo _ . Give it to me straight.”

Rey glared at him as he leaned in closer still. Rey just glared at him, caught on the razor edge between hatred and the treacherous tenderness she still held for him.

“What do you want to know, Rey?”

“You  _ know _ what,” she bit out, her anger only swelling tenfold as she felt the telltale prick of tears.

He’d always been with her. All those years in too-big mansions and starched-stiff clothes, he’d been there to play marbles with her. When her parents died, he’d been there to calm her howling grief. Even when the precarious Solo-Palpatine alliance fell apart and the streets were soaked with blood, he’d come back to her in the dead of night.

After all this time, he’d come back from the War - but not to her.

Rey steeled herself; she was a grown woman now, fathoms away from the little girl that hid in dark hallways and penned love letters. She was a leader - a  _ Palpatine _ , at that - and she’d be damned if she cried in front of Ben fucking Solo.

Yet here he was, expecting her to lay her heart on the table one last time, like some desperate broad, just for his amusement.

“What do you want to know? Go on, say it,” Ben purred as he raised a hand to her throat, his calloused fingers delicately tracing over her diamonds.

Rey swatted his hand away, before turning away to look out at the black abyss of the sea, her knuckles white from gripping the balcony. “Well you’re alive, for starters.”

“Evidently.”

Rey’s head snapped up to stare at him.

“ _ Evidently _ ?” she hissed, not even bothering to mask her anger as it reached its blazing zenith 

Ben reeled back at the venom behind her voice. Good. Let him see what she had become: the leader of a many-headed monster with her claws buried six feet deep in this glitzy, gutless city. 

Rey advanced on him, slamming her palms full force into his chest. “You have the  _ gall _ to show your face after six years, waste my time,  _ insult _ me, and all you have to say is  _ evidently _ ?”

Ben staggered back but quickly regained his composure, his face stony. “I was going to discuss the possibility of rekindling our... _ alliance _ ,” he sneered, “but evidently you’re not interested.”

If looks could kill, Ben would be nothing but dust on the wind. “Why would I have any interest in doing that? You Solo’s are always a liability. Besides, I’m sure Hux wouldn’t be too pleased if I broke our agreement.” The lie rolled off Rey’s tongue as easy as breathing and she relished the way Ben’s hands curled into fists. It was good to know she got under his skin as much as he did hers.

“Hux is a backstabbing bastard and you know it,” Ben growled out, “he’ll fill you with lead as soon as he’s done with you.”

Rey gave him a sweet smile. “I believe my business is none of your concern anymore,” she sipped demurely on the last dregs of her champagne before turning away, “now, if we’re finished here -”

“Going so soon? You’re my guest of honour.”

There it was again: his mask of indifference. Well, two could play at that game - she had one final jibe up her sleeve.

Rey slowly turned around to face him one last time, nonchalantly leaning a hip against the balustrade. “Me, a guest of honour? What would your parents say?”

She knew she'd hit the jackpot as soon as the muscle under Ben’s right eye jumped. 

“ _ Fuck _ my parents,” Ben spat vehemently as he pointed a finger at her, “I’ve given everything I have to  _ you _ , no one else.”

“I never asked you to, Ben!” Rey yelled back, so loud it scratched at her throat. “And you can’t just win me over again with one elaborate party, so you can kiss the thought of any deal with me goodbye!” 

“Goddamit, Rey, I don’t want a stupid fuckin’ deal!”

“Then what do you want?!” 

“I want you!” Ben roared, striding into her space and backing her up against the balcony. 

Rey’s hands flew out to catch herself, sending her champagne flute flying over the ledge. They both watched helplessly as the crystal fell, catching the moonlight before shattering into a million pieces on the driveway below.

When Rey turned back to face Ben, the man in front of her was a world away from the one who strode back into her life half an hour ago. The charisma and cockiness had melted away; weariness was etched into the lines of his face. Rey realised for the first time just how  _ tired _ he looked, how she too felt that same exhaustion; but what really doused out her anger was his eyes - they held an earnestness that Ben had never quite been able to shake. 

“You know who I was thinking of when I was rotting in those shithole trenches? When I was eating the leather from my own boots? I was thinking of  _ you _ , Rey.” He hooked a finger under her chin and gently tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “I was thinking of you.”

“Why?” Rey choked out, all the fight instantly draining out of her at his touch. She knew the answer, of course. 

“The same -” Ben’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before leveling his gaze at her once more, “the same reason you think of me,  _ asthore _ .”

Rey’s breath hitched. She remembered the last time he called her that, as he pressed it into her lips at the docks on a grey, misty morning amongst hundreds of other uniformed men. How she watched his ship disappear into the fog. How she had never heard it again- until now. Rey hadn’t cried since she was five, but now she felt her throat close up at the mere mention of the word.

_ Asthore.  _

Treasure.

Rey’s gaze darted over Ben’s face, torn. 

Then all the anger, the grief, the politics of it all -

\- all of it melted away as she pulled him in by his waistcoat and  crashed their lips together.

Ben groaned as  his hands slammed into the balcony either side of Rey, caging her in as he kissed her like it was the last time. Which, Rey supposed, wasn’t that far from the truth.

But she couldn’t dwell on that now; not when Ben’s lips were sliding over hers hungrily in a fierce kiss that tasted of champagne and an achingly familiar scent of gunmetal. Rey tangled her fingers in Ben’s hair, instinct taking over as they claimed each other’s lips again and again, riding wave upon wave of euphoria after years of wanting and waiting.

Cold stone dug into the small of her back but Rey couldn’t care less, her whole hazy world narrowing down to the hair’s breadth between their bodies and the heat that had begun to coil in her core. She tugged on his hair, just like he used to like it, and he  _ growled _ as he parted the seam of Rey’s lips and plundered her mouth in sinful rolling, pulsing motions.

“God,  _ Rey _ ,” Ben choked out as he grabbed her hips and pulled her impossibly closer, licking and nibbling his way along her jaw and down her neck, “you’ve no idea how fucking long I’ve waited for this, thought I was gonna die without even seeing you again -”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Rey soothed between the crests of her sighs, “you’re okay now.”

As Ben captured her in another breathless kiss, Rey idly wondered how she ever thought she could turn her back on him.  Her heart sang like a canary in a coal mine but Lord save her, she could never think of tearing herself from Ben’s side.

Rey kissed him back with renewed fervour, moaning into his mouth as she pushed his dinner jacket off. It took a split second for Ben to realise what she was trying to do, but as soon as he did he sprang into action, their bodies becoming a tangle of searing kisses and eager, searching hands.

Maybe a bit too eager, Rey thought as she tugged on Ben’s waistcoat with a little more force than necessary. The top button shot off with a ping but Ben seemed to neither notice nor care as he gathered her in his arms, strong and sure, and carried her back inside.

Ben blindly stumbled into the library, unable to stop kissing her for even a moment to look where he was going. They careened into a bookcase only metres from the chaise lounge, but even though her shoulder ached from bumping into the wood she didn’t care, didn’t care because Ben was pinning her up against his books and reaching for the hem of her dress like a starving man for a fresh peach.

Rey gasped, her mind screaming for more, more, more as her legs instinctively wrapped around him and the bulge in his smart dress trousers rubbed against her wet center.

Ben stilled for just a second as he felt her warmth, bringing one of his hands down to slide through her slick folds experimentally, almost reverently. Then the penny dropped.

“ _ Fuck _ , Rey, not even wearing panties,” Ben groaned as his hips snapped forward instinctively, his cock tenting the fabric as it swelled even more. Christ, Rey forgot how big he was. 

“H - how very astute of you,” Rey gasped, her voice shakier than she would have liked at the sound of her name coming from his plush, kiss-stung lips. 

Ben growled and lunged for her, his tongue tracing circles at her pulse point as he ground up against her again, his clothed cock giving her the delicious friction that she so desperately needed. “No panties and a smart mouth, huh? You have changed.” His breath, hot and urgent, sent a shiver down Rey’s spine, and her brain short-circuited.

“Yeah,” she sighed as she canted her hips forward to meet Ben’s thrusts, too overcome to think of a witty comeback.

Ben hummed in satisfaction as he laved his tongue down to her collarbone. “Yeah that’s right, ride my thigh while I mark you up underneath these pretty diamonds.” 

Rey cried out, throwing her head back against the books with a thunk as Ben bit down, sucking harshly at the dip between her collarbones. Surrendering herself to him. A tiny part of Rey’s mind wondered at how good it felt to let go, just this once, as Ben’s lips and teeth and tongue and cock surrounded her in a wall of muscle and heat and breathless gasps. Just this once, she didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to make decisions. Didn’t have to lead. She went limp in his arms, a silent plea for him to take, take, take whatever he wanted.

“Ben, I want -” Rey choked out as she ground up against his cock faster, staring with wild eyes at their combined slick on the fabric. 

“What, what do you want, baby?” Ben urged as he sucked harder, the slick sound echoing filthily into the night air.

“I need - I need you,” Rey keened as she squirmed, all reason or sense of rhythm lost as she felt her orgasm coil in her belly. She ached for Ben like she never had before, ached for him to pin her down and ply her with himself until she couldn’t speak, couldn’t even make a sound but a silent scream of pleasure.

“You want my cock, huh baby? You want me to fuck you good and hard?” Ben crooned wickedly in her ear as he hoisted her further up the wall, one palm under her ass as the other pinned her hands above her head.

Rey nodded, letting out a sob as his head hit her center just right, too much and just not enough at the same time. She went to reach a hand down between them, only to realise exactly why Ben had her arms above her head.

“Oh, you -  _ uh _ \-  _ infuriating _ man,” she gritted out, even as she jolted in pleasure at his thrusts.

He chuckled in her ear, his voice deeper and rougher with lust. “Want you to come just like this, nothing but my cock against your pussy and your tits in my mouth.”

Rey shuddered at the mental image, at how wrecked she must look even now at the mercy of the most feared man in the country. But he’d never hurt her, not ever.

“Get to it, then,” she rushed out, wriggling in his arms.

Despite her urging, Rey still gasped as he ripped the fabric of her dress down in one swift tug. She moaned as he pressed up impossibly closer to her, thrusting faster against her aching, dripping center as he dipped his head to swirl his tongue around her nipples, pebbled from the night chill and her arousal.

“Fuck, Ben,” she mewled, the sound quiet in the electric silence.

Ben groaned emphatically in response, his teeth grazing over her nipples on just the other side of pleasure and pain. “God, say it again, baby.”

Rey’s head lolled forward, resting it on top of his as her hips bore down faster and rougher, searching for something, _ anything _ to fill her up as she chased the mercurial high that hurtled closer and closer. “Ben, Ben please, I - oh  _ God _ -”

Then Ben bit down hard, his hand moving from her wrists to her throat, and Rey’s world shattered on a scream.

Her body stretched taut as her cunt clenched hard, soaking the front of Ben’s trousers. Rey rode on wave after wave of sweet surrender as his fingers tightened around her bared throat ever so slightly each time, sending her higher and higher until all she could hear were Ben’s harsh breaths and a high-pitched whimpering. It was only once Ben began to lower her, stroking her hair and soothing her with quiet words, that Rey realised it was her making the sound.

“Hey it’s okay, got you right here doll,” he whispered into her hair as she clung to his chest, “got you right here.”

Ben led her over to the chaise lounge, the untouched tray of her favourite food and drink still set off to the side.

“Do you want anything to eat, or something to drink?” he asked as he laid her gently against the velvet and brocade, before moving away to fiddle with the tray. Rey supposed she should feel like a doll, or one of those figurines Rose had wrinkled her nose at earlier, but all she felt was warm, loose contentment and the aftershocks of her orgasm. 

Rey settled back against the sumptuous fabric and smiled lazily up at Ben. “I’d love some whiskey with you on the side.”

Ben looked up at Rey’s words and froze, his eyes filled with sadness.

“What’s wrong?” Rey frowned, moving to sit up.

Ben jerked back into action, placating her with a hand on her arm. “No, no, it’s nothing,” he rushed out, a hollow smile pulling at his lips as he withdrew to pour out a whiskey. “It’s nothing.”

Rey opened her mouth to argue that of course it wasn’t nothing, and to just bloody tell her what was on his mind when the thought hit her. 

Of course it was nothing. 

It was nothing, because  _ this _ was nothing. If word got out that there was something, anything, between them...every man and his dog would be out to get them. Imagining someone taking out Ben, just to get to her...Rey suddenly found herself having to blink back tears. 

It would feel like dying all over again.

She downed the whiskey he handed to her in one fell swoop, setting it on the floor and reaching out for Ben. “Come here.”

Ben set down his own drink, still full, and immediately went to her, settling between her legs and propping himself up on his elbows.

He brushed aside a lock of her hair, the curls falling flat from their heated session, and gazed down at her. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

Rey berated herself for the lump that suddenly swelled in her throat. “Just, just...”

What did she want? She’d only just got Ben back and now she wanted to ask him to risk it all again, for her? She couldn’t ask that of him.

“Just be with me,” she finally whispered, unable to stop her eyes from welling up.

Ben nodded quietly, his own eyes suspiciously glassy, before he bent down to kiss her once more. Rey eagerly returned it, snaking her arms around his neck so she could wrap herself up in him one last time.

The kiss soon crescendoed into a desperate scrabble of fingers fumbling with buttons and heavy sighs and suddenly Ben was hovering over her: naked, wild-eyed and wanting.

“Are you sure you want this, Rey?”

Eager, she nodded, biting her lip and hitching up her dress so the silk fell about her waist. Then Ben was lining himself up and pressing into her folds.

The tip of his cock nudged against her entrance, his biceps beneath her wandering fingers clearly straining to resist the urge to just snap into her hard and fast. “This good?”

Rey grinned as she gently rocked down further onto him. Ben’s hips stuttered, his control slowly, gloriously unravelling in front of her. Rey knew power: she’d single handedly held down one of the largest territories in the city, been in shootouts and drive bys and burning buildings - but never had she felt more powerful than underneath a Ben Solo shaking with the effort to not drive himself into her. “Yes.”

“Good,” Ben breathed, and plunged into her.

Rey swore as he sheathed himself inside her, stretching her cunt in the most delicious way. If Heaven didn’t come with whiskey and a good fuck, then she didn’t want it, Rey thought deliriously as he rocked into her again and again, drawing out her slick from her throbbing cunt until the sound of him thrusting in and the smell of sex filled the room. 

Ben reached a hand down and batted away Rey’s own fingers, massaging her clit at an angle that she hadn’t felt since he left. The feel of his fingers on hers, the way he relentlessly hit the spot deep inside her, threw Rey into a frenzied limbo of euphoric and hazy and too much and not enough. All of it made Rey crumble underneath his touch. She could feel that he was getting close too, his breathing becoming more ragged and his jerky thrusts more desperate. 

Rey’s mind began to wander. She fantasized that Ben was fucking her into the mattress of a bed they owned, with wars to fight and no reputations to uphold. She pictured him making love to her in the late morning on Sundays; in the dawn before she went to work, at a local grocer, perhaps; in the early hours after drinking too much moonshine than was probably sensible. She wondered which parts of her he’d kiss tenderly, how he’d feel when he shuffled up behind her under the duvet and wrapped his arms around her after a long day of work.

“Rey,” Ben’s keens and his lips against her shoulder brought her back to the present, where the whiskey was worth more than an automobile and the Palpatine ring glittered in the lamplight. “Rey, I’m gonna -”

Ben snapped his hips forward once, twice, three times before he stilled inside her, swearing as his cock pulsed inside her. Rey felt her own orgasm ricochet through her, her hips gyrating as she came on his cock and her hand, crying out as waves of pleasure rocked throughout her body. They collapsed together, chests heaving. The comfortable silence stretched on into the night, both lost in their own thoughts.

When the aftershocks faded and Rey came back to her senses, she felt a soft tickle up her side and a warmth at her back. She felt tears prick at her eyes as she realised: Ben had shuffled up behind her, spooning her as he kissed tenderly at her shoulder.

“Rey?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

Rey snapped her head so quickly towards him, she was surprised it didn’t fall off. “Ben, don’t-”

“No, I need to say it,” he said, his face animated with passion, “I have to, or I never will and I’ll die every day until I can be with you again beyond the grave. I love you, Rey, and I’ll keep loving you ‘till…’till…” He paused, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looked around desperately for an answer, a loophole out of their situation. None came, and he dipped down to capture Rey in one last kiss. Rey gasped, feeling wet warmth trickle down her own cheeks. “‘Till either the stars rain from the heavens or…or the liquor dries out in this beautiful, lousy city.”

“Promise?” Rey whispered as she felt her heart shatter and mend in a never-ending loop. There was a circle in Hell with her name on it but at least when she went, she wouldn’t be alone.

“Promise.”


End file.
